Untitled fragment
by phyca
Summary: Christine finds herself with child. All does not go well.


Author: phyca

Notes: Just a fragment that I wrote a long time ago. Not sure where this should go as far as developing into an actual plot, so suggestions are welcomed. I just thought it was a lovely little piece and am curious as to the feedback.

This is some sort of variation on Kay's Phantom, I think, for Erik is far too kind and, well, stable to be the Leroux version. Whatever I was thinking when I wrote this has been lost to time.

Also, this assumes that a) Christine and Erik are married and b) that they are living in Sweden. I could give it a frontpiece, but then the story becomes about that, and I'd rather just concentrate on their home life, particularly the issue at hand. But if you think it is important, just say so.

* * *

Not quite two years into their marriage, Christine found herself pregnant. It was a shock to both for they had an unspoken mutual agreement on the subject, neither wanting children for their own reasons, which were best left undiscussed lest feelings be hurt or hearts broken. They had not yet decided how to handle the situation when, in the very middle of one such debate, Christine felt the first pain of her first miscarriage. Erik, his fear and worry for his wife overshadowing his terrible dislike of people in general and the never-abating knowledge of his appearance, flew to the village doctor. Shortly thereafter, he was receiving a curt distracted speech of tidy reassurances: your wife is fine, this is not so rare for a first pregnancy, one must take into account her petite frame, and you can still have more. Erik only cared that Christine was well.

A melancholy greater than he had ever seen on her settled into her countenance. They would often walk by the seashore of her beloved Sweden and though her smile at being home was full enough to enhance the beautiful shape of her eyes, it could do nothing to brighten the darkness and despair which had dimmed them of late. Her voice was lackluster and her technique was slowly crumbling, but he could not of good conscience critique her in the slightest. Some days she was late rising, others early retiring, and still others she would keep to her bed entirely, begging Erik's forgiveness at her weakness and ill health.

"Erik," she began one day, clasping his cold hand. "Would you hate me if I said I wished to have a child?"

"No, I could never hate you for anything for the rest of our days together. I cannot help but feel, however, that it would be terribly unwise. You no doubt know this and know why."

"Yes." She no longer held his hand. "But my desire to have a child of my own has been overwhelming since I lost our first. I dream of infants very often. I cannot get up some days for the dreams are so strong, so soothing, that I don't wish to lose that feeling. When I go into town, every young child catches my eye - even the crying ones and the ugly ones." She paused for a moment as her consciousness caught up with her words. "I'm sorry, I did not mean that."

"Regardless, it is a valid point, Christine. You desire a child even if it were ugly. But what if it looked like me? Beyond ugly, into hideous, disgusting, revolting...monstrous. What then? I doubt you could love such a thing. I doubt you truly desire such a thing."

"But I love and desire you."

"I fair to believe that you feel that way about my appearance."

Christine fell silent and Erik realized she was retreating in defeat. He feared she would go further back than from when she'd come, that he would lose her to the darkness again.

He sighed, brushing her cheek to force her attention on him. "Come now, Christine. I am a freak of nature. I certainly did not resemble my parents at birth (though the similarities are no doubt much greater now.) As far as I know, no one has ever seen a monstrosity such as myself. Very likely our child, if we had one, would be perfectly normal."

Her head perked up a little at these unexpected reassurances. He smiled, glad to have her back in sight...and then he proceeded to drive her into retreat a different, more logical, less emotional way.

"But what of the time and energies that must be put forth to raise a child? Much more grueling than training to be a prima dona. Being woken through the night, never having a moment to yourself, no time off to rest and recuperate, loud, piercing shreiks that would make you long for Carlotta's voice instead. They are messy and rude and more trouble than they are worth."

"But when you love someone, none of that matters."

They both pondered this last statement. Erik decided, in applying it to his affection for Christine, that as he loved her then truly, none of it mattered. A child could be a token of love, much the same as the band of gold on her finger...though certainly much more of a headache to deal with.

Again he sighed, this time in defeat. "If that is what you truly wish, then you shall have it." The pale glow from her eyes, her arms wrapped gently around him in a thankful embrace, these were all he needed to convince himself of the necessity of his offer.

Many months passed in which she failed to conceive, but her spirits were bright and her patience was fueled by her devotion to what she believed would be her fortune. She allowed herself to buy fine materials from which to make baby clothes - silks and soft cottons, warm yarns, and dainty thread for lace - but would not allow herself to even thread a needle until she was with child. Erik waited patiently too, reminding himself that the sacrifice would be for Christine. But when she finally announced to him, in a radiance that outshown all the glory she had ever felt on stage, that she was with child, Erik soon fell into his own melancholy. In his thoughts and dreams, he was plagued by the idea of a child looking upon him with scorn or repulsion. To have his own child hate him, how could he bear such a thing? He tried to overpower his thoughts by devoting himself fully to Christine's care - making her rest more than she wished, restricting her activities, developing a whole new and less physically wearing methodology for her voice - yet none of this could alleviate the fears that pressed against his head at night.

Unfortunately for Christine, just as she found herself obliged to let out the waists on her dresses and skirts a considerable amount, she felt a familiar pain and again Erik found himself in the parlour with the doctor, listening to a familiar speech. This time, though, he noticed the man's eyes scanning his face as though trying to figure out just what was behind the mask. Hadn't he stared at his snuff box the last time, so uncomfortable in Erik's mysterious presence that he could hardly make eye contact? He worried that the fetus held a deformity like his own, giving the doctor a glimpse at his secret.

Christine put away the infant gowns and unused material and adjusted the waists of her dresses and skirts again.

Her melancholy returned for a short while but was eventually replaced with a calm resolution as she accepted the fate she now saw as her own.

Another mutual agreement, silent again, was reached and both held steadfast to the conviction that children were not what they needed.

Many years later, as Christine was nearing thirty and Erik's sparse locks of hair were now fully grey and his temples white, they were both surprised to find her pregnant again. They had been so careful, having matured in their marriage, and thought themselves beyond such an accident. Christine was the first to recover from the shock and told Erik simply yet firmly that she meant to hold onto this one. Erik did not disagree.


End file.
